


Trick or Treat (You're so Sweet)

by lavenderlotion



Series: Daddy's Beautiful Boy [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Age Play Daddy Peter Hale, Age Play Little Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Peter Hale, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Hand Jobs, Lap Sex, M/M, Making Out, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-14 00:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: The front door to Peter’s apartment bangs open, and he hears the hinges squeak as it bounces off the doorstop. He opens his mouth, ready to shout out a reprimand, when Stiles calls out, “Daddy!” in a voice that is filled with enthusiasm, joyous and carefree, and it continues with, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”





	Trick or Treat (You're so Sweet)

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea a little while ago, and I wasn’t really planning on writing it, but last night I opened a gdoc and then...did this instead of my homework? I'm sorry it's so late.

The front door to Peter’s apartment bangs open, and he hears the hinges squeak as it bounces off the doorstop. He opens his mouth, ready to shout out a reprimand, when Stiles calls out, “Daddy!” in a voice that is filled with enthusiasm, joyous and carefree, and it continues with, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

Stiles crashes his way into Peter’s apartment, a flurry of moving limbs and short, fast breaths that all display his excitement. Peter can’t bring himself to feel upset, not when he catches the sweet scent of Stiles excitement under the stench of  _ others _ . 

He’s standing at the kitchen island, idly browsing the web for something to cook, and he looks up when Stiles barrels into the room. The boy comes running in, stopping himself by crashing into the other end of the counter with a grunted  _ oomph _ . Peter shamelessly stares, eyes tracking over the warm flush marking his cheeks, and the happy gleam in his wide eyes. 

His boy is  _ gorgeous _ , and all  _ his _ , and Peter feels something sharp and vicious unfurl in his chest. He lifts his left arm and as expected, Stiles makes an excited, high-pitched noise that comes from somewhere far back in his throat. It’s with the same happy enthusiasm that Stiles rounds the island and burrows into Peter’s side. 

Peter tilts his head down and Stiles presses up for a series of sweet, closed mouth kisses. Peter doesn’t even think of sweeping his tongue out, not when Stiles is like this, and instead breathes in a deep lungful of their scent wrapping together. He pulls back, happily nuzzling into Stiles’ forehead and blowing a raspberry into the skin to make his boy giggle. 

When Stiles pulls back, he looks even happier than he did when he first walked into the door. Peter lets his arm settle heavy over his shoulder, keeping him close against his side. “So,” he begins, eyes flicking back to his tablet, “what had you so excited?”

“ _ Ifoundyouacostume _ !” Stiles says, the words bleeding together so fast that Peter has to mentally repeat what Stiles had just said before it clicks.

Peter’s smile goes even softer, somehow, his eyes tracking over Stiles’ face. It is no surprise to Peter that Stiles had wanted to dress up. He gets excited over every holiday, and Halloween seems to be no different. Still, when Stiles had first broached the topic he had been shy, curling into Peter’s chest as they snuggled in bed and speaking the words under the cover of night, lips pressed against Peter’s skin. 

It had taken him a while to get out everything he wanted to say, and Peter figured his friends were the most probable culprit of Stiles’ insecurity regarding the issue. He had done his best to make Stiles feel better, holding him tightly as he assured him that it was more than fine if Stiles wanted to dress up, and that he would even dress up with him. 

“And what did you find for me?” Peter asks, focusing back on the present and the happy, wiggly boy he has under his arm. 

“Oh my gosh!” Stiles exclaims, running back around the counter to pick up the bags he had dropped earlier. “We are going to look  _ so awesome _ !” 

Stiles’ enthusiasm, as it usually is, is contagious. Peter finds that his lips are stretched into a smile that is unusual but is becoming more common the longer he and Stiles are together. Peter can’t say he minds being happy, not when his relationship with Stiles is the first thing that has brought him joy in...in longer than he likes to think about. 

“Look!” Stiles screeches, quite loudly, before slapping down two packaged costumes on the island counter. “Batman and Robin! It’s perfect, Daddy.” 

Peter stares at the two bags with a raised brow

“Hm, I’m not sure I can pull off those tights, baby,” Peter says, eyeing the Robin costume. He knows Stiles has spent the last few days shopping around for something that would work for them and that he hasn’t much luck. If this is what his baby wants...well. 

Stiles giggles, shuffling closer so he can stand tucked into Peter’s side again. “Those aren’t for you, Daddy. You get to be Batman!”

“Sweetheart, I thought you wanted to be Batman this year. What happened to that?”

“Daddy, it doesn’t make  _ sense _ for me to be Batman. Obviously Batman is the Daddy, so you have to dress up as him!”

“Alright, darling,” Peter tells him, his smile twisting into a smirk. “You do know how much I like your little ass dressed up in tights.” 

Stiles gasps loudly, eyes going wide as he blushes darkly. He reaches out and tangles his fingers into Peter’s shirt, tugging insistently. “ _ Daddy _ , that’s a bad word!”

“Sorry, baby,” Peter says, hiding a smile in Stiles’ hair. 

* * *

They drive to the next town. Not because Peter is embarrassed—he could  _ never _ be embarrassed of his bright,  _ beautiful  _ boy—but because when Peter asks where Stiles would like to go, his scent goes bitter with anxiety and his eyes flick up to meet Peter’s gaze at the same time he snags his bottom lip between his teeth.

So Peter had decided that going to the next town would be best, where there was no chance of their night out getting back to the Sheriff or any of Stiles’ friends. Stiles would have gone through his own neighbourhood if Peter had asked, but he would never ask his baby to do something like that, not when it would make his baby unhappy.

Peter parked their car in a relatively busy looking neighbourhood, streets lined with kids but not overcrowded. He got out, rounding the car so he could open Stiles’ door for him. His boy waited patiently, fingers clasped tightly together in his lap, his entire body a line of tense energy. Peter knew just how hard it must have been to hold himself that still, and he made a note to reward Stiles later.

As soon as the door was open Stiles was spilling out of the car and into Peter’s chest, hugging him tightly and muttering little “thank you’s” into his chest. Peter hugged him back, holding his boy tightly and rubbing a hand up and down his back. Peter is doing his best to not show his nerves, and he thinks he does fairly well when Stiles says nothing. 

As they walk up to the first house, Peter lets himself think about all that he’s been ignoring in the face of his baby’s happiness. Stiles has been so excited that Peter hasn’t thought much of the logistics until now, and he’s suddenly worried about how the night is going to go. 

He takes Stiles to their first house and standby the drive as Stiles runs up the driveway, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet. Peter can still smell how happy he is, the scent clinging in the surrounding air, soaking into the fabric of both their costumes. Stiles rings the doorbell before he steps back, his heart hammering away.

Peter watches, eyes bleeding red, as an older woman opens the door. He sees the way her forehead creases, obviously taken aback. For all that Stiles is his baby, he has grown much since he graduated from high school a few years ago. He looks all over the twenty-two years he is, and Peter feels a growl build in the back of his throat. 

“Trick or treat, ma’am!” Stiles says, his voice sounding younger than he looks. Peter can clearly imagine the look on his boys face, cheeks flushed and eyes wide with childish enthusiasm. 

Peter takes a few steps up the drive, ready to step in should he need to. The woman looks at Stiles for another minute before her eyes travel down the driveway and land on Peter, watching him. They hold eyes, Peter’s still lit up, until she looks away.

“Oh, well don’t you look just wonderful. I think I can see Batman waiting for you, is that right?” the lady asks, and her voice is kind. Peter almost staggers back, shocked at the decency they are being shown.

“Uh-huh!” 

“Don’t let him eat all your candy, now,” the women says, and Peter can see her smile from where he is, the softness it has to it. 

Stiles giggles happily, bouncing on his toes. “Of course not, ma’am.”  

The lady fills Stiles’ bag with more candy than Peter thinks one would normally get, and Stiles comes bouncing back down the driveway, looking exactly like Peter had imagined. He’s flushed and happy and burrows close into Peter’s side, burrowing under his shoulder in the same way Peter always lets him. 

Peter can hear the lady going back into her house and he hears the dial of a phone. He lets Stiles lead them to the next house even as he listens in, straining his hearing as they get further and further away. He can hardly hear her voice when she starts to talk, but Peter is sure she says, “There’s a young man coming around, make sure you give ‘im some candy.” to someone on the other line. 

When the door opens, the man who steps out doesn’t even blink. He treats Stiles just like he would any other child, cooing over his costume. It becomes a trend as they go around the neighbourhood, inter-sped by children. By the time Stiles and Peter are finished for the night, Stiles is happier than Peter has ever seen him, and even his own heart feels light.  

* * *

Peter sits in his “Daddy chair” as Stiles sits on the carpet counting out his candy. He’s adorable, completely surrounded. After trick or treating Peter had made a stop at a corner store that had been  _ advertising _ that they still had chocolate, and Peter bought more boxes than they probably needed. It had been worth it to see Stiles’ face light up with excitement, and even the inevitable chocolate stains hadn’t been enough to stop Peter.

Right now, Stiles is separating them my chocolate type, chattering away as Peter half listens and half just  _ watches _ . The night went so much better than Peter could have possibly imagined, and Peter has never seen his baby so carefree. Stiles is still riding the endorphin high, Peter is sure, and he watches his boy happily.

Eventually all of his candy is sorted, and he loses focus, his happy gaze zeroing in on Peter. His eyes are wide, lips twisted up into a sweet smile. 

“Thank you  _ so much _ ,” Stiles gushes, crawling into Peter’s lap. He’s flushed and happy and smelling so sweet, his arousal twirling through his scent. 

Peter keeps him steady by holding onto his thighs, his bare skin smooth under Peter’s palms. They had both changed when they’d gotten home and Stiles is in nothing but a pair of briefs and one of Peter’s oversized shirts, his favourite outfit to wear, and Peter is wearing a comfortable pair of sweatpants. 

“Did you have fun, darling?” Peter asks, just to see Stiles’ smile widen. 

“I had  _ so much fun _ !” Stiles tells him, doing a happy little wiggle in Peter’s lap. Peter slides his hands up Stiles’ thighs and around his hips, palming his boy’s ass gently. 

Stiles doesn’t often like to be sexual while he’s like this, floating somewhere around the middle of his age range, but it seems like tonight is an exception. He keeps wiggling I’m Peter’s lap, nothing close to a purposeful grind but feeling just as good as one. When Peter looks down, Stiles’ dick is tenting his briefs, a little indent that pokes against his shirt. 

“I’m really glad that you had a good time, baby,” Peter tells him, encouraging what Stiles is doing, pulling him forward with the hands that are kneading into his ass. 

“Can I make you feel good, Daddy?” his question is sugar sweet, and when he leans forward to press a noisy kiss to Peter’s lips, he tastes like the chocolate he’s been eating. 

“You can do whatever you would like, baby,” Peter tells, almost the same response he always gives his boy. There are times when Peter is in control, when he tells Stiles what he can and cannot do, but those moments are not nearly as common as they used to be. 

Stiles giggles, bright and happy, and kisses him again. His hands scramble at the waistband of Peter’s sweats and Peter lifts his hips so Stiles can get them down. It’s harder since Stiles is sitting on his lip but his boy manages, Peter’s cock slapping up against his stomach and earning another round of giggles. 

Peter lets Stiles do as he likes. He is naturally curious but even more so when he’s like this. Stiles gently rolls down Peter’s foreskin only to thumb at the head—not with anywhere near enough pressure but enough to make his dick spurt out a bead of precome. Peter is a leaker, it’s something he knows and something Stiles usually loves, precome spilling from his slit almost as soon as he gets hard. 

Stiles jerks him off slowly, experimentally. Peter sits there and lets his boy have his fun, giggling a little each time Peter spurts out more pre, hands sliding over Peter’s dick easily. Sometimes Stiles will press forward for small kisses, usually closed mouth, but sometimes he’ll suck on Peter’s tongue, moaning away.

His orgasms sneaks up on him, creeping up his spine as his balls slowly draw up. The tension builds and builds until all of a sudden he’s panting, hanging on the edge as he struggles to keep himself from shifting. When Peter comes, he does so growling out Stiles’ name, biting into his neck this side of too hard. 

Stiles cries out, his hands squeezing tightly around Peter’s cock and Peter pulls away soon as his body has stopped spasm through his orgasm. 

“Sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” Peter says, apologies spilling from his mouth as he tries to calm his racing heart. Stiles shakes his head, and for a moment Peter is worried that his baby is going to start crying, but then he bunches his t-shirt between his fingers and lifts the hem at the same time he rolls his hips forward. 

“ _ Daddy _ ,” the one word is said desperately, Stiles’ voice breaking as his scent fills with frustration. When Peter pulls down his briefs, his dick looks painfully hard and flushed a dark red. 

“Oh darling,” Peter croons, urging Stiles close and wrapping a hand around his cock. “You are so gorgeous, such a lovely, pretty boy.” Peter works his dick with both hands, using everything he knows Stiles likes to get him off as quickly as possible. 

“You’re such a sweet boy, baby, Daddy’s sweet, sweet baby,” Peter praises, kissing Stiles on the forehead when he drops his head forward, panting for air.

“Daddy!” Stiles gasps, his hands skipping over Peter’s chest and torso, fingers scrambling over his skin as he desperately gropes for purchase. His fingers tangle in Peter’s chest hair, pulling as he rolls his wrist into Peter’s hand, needy little pants spilling out of his lips. 

Stiles’ entire body goes tight before he comes, spilling over Peter’s hand and onto Peter’s chest, shaking through his orgasm as he whines and cries and makes far too much noise—but each sound is one Peter greedily files away, all noises that he calls his own for Stiles only and will only ever make them with him. 

“It’s okay, baby, shh, it’s okay,” Peter soothes, running a large hand up and down Stiles’ back, urging him forward until his forehead is tucked against Peter’s neck.

Stiles mouths at the skin but there’s nothing sexual to the action. Both of them are still breathing heavily, their heart rates elevated, and the air smells pleasantly like their release. Peter settles a bit deeper into the chair, letting Stiles get comfortable on his lap. He knows that he’ll have to carry Stiles to bed later on, but he really can’t bring himself to care.

“I love you, baby,” Peter tells him, words he once thought he would never again get to say.

“I love you too, Daddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> [my tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/) and [my pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/lavenderlotion)


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